Mockingbird
by Kaila.Nicole
Summary: Seeley Booth has felt fear before, has known fear before. He's never experienced this fear, though, of knowing that two precious lives are in danger. He numbly dials her number again. He leaves a message that he hopes she'll live to hear. B&B.
1. The Astray

**AN: My first multi-chapter story for **_**Bones**_**. I have to say, I am an eager beaver (…that was cheesy) to get started on this little adventure and test the waters of Brennan and Booth in more than a one-shot. **

**As always, enjoy!**

**Present-Day**

**F.B.I. Headquarters, Washington, D.C. **

**Special Agent Seeley Booth's office**

**7:32 a.m.**

"You've reached Dr. Temperance Brennan. Please leave your name, number, and a short message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you." I don't bother even flipping the phone down. My fingers immediately hit end, then send, and send again. Six rings later: "You've reached Dr. Temperance Brennan…" I don't know how many calls I make to her phone. The only thing I do know is that she hasn't answered a single one of them. I only leave one message after the familiar beep:

"I will find you, Bones." Now, though, after pacing back and forth through her office, I am not really sure about anything. I am only scared, frightened.

"Where are you, Bones? I need my guy-hug." The funny thing is that the hugs are anything but masculine. Eventually, I believe she caught onto that. But this was Bones and she would never reveal this fact, even though it's the truth.

Papers and Post-It notes are strewn across the deep mahogany of Bones' desk. Evidence that Bones disappeared right out from under our noses. Right out of the Jeffersonian. Oddly enough, I wasn't surprised when, an hour ago, Cam declared that Bones couldn't be found anywhere, and she must have been taken. She wasn't taken, though. Taking something was done with the slim chance it might be _brought_ back by the taker. I have every intention of bringing her back myself.

Bones was stolen. And I'm not surprised about this fact one bit. My life has begun to turn around, begun to edge closer to the bright side of life, the greener pastures, or whatever-the-hell-else you want to call it. So of course, the universe decides to throw me another 180.

There's a burden, knowing you are putting your entire self out on the line, dangling in mid-air, arms spread out, because you've got enough faith to know that someone will catch you before you begin to fall. That's the way it is with her. She is my caped-crusader in a world of crime and bullets and fear and hatred. She is the hand that clasps around my own- pulls me in- when I can't hang on any longer.

And now she's been stolen from me. I feel myself falling, creeping closer and closer to the rocky bottom below. There is no hand to haul me back up. I desperately need that hand back; I desperately need her back, in my arms, in my life, anywhere she could fit in- just as long as she is here and safe.

"You've reached Dr. Temperance Brennan. Please leave your name, number, and a short message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

"Temperance," I take a deep breath to keep my voice from breaking, "Everything's going to be fine. You and the baby will be fine." That's the burden.

There's a light knock on the door and I glance up, quickly setting my mouth into a grim line because I don't want anyone to see this anguish, this pain. I don't want anyone to see it besides Bones. After all, she's the only one I have ever fully trusted in this world. "Come in."

**AN: This is more of a what-if story: if Brennan **_**had **_**ended up trying for a baby. Which, trust me, I was happy that she didn't, because I believe it would have ruined all that sexual tension and "tear our clothes off and do it against the wall" passion. That's a quote from David. Yes, I listen to the DVD commentaries because I'm **_**that**_** obsessed. **

**This story takes place roughly a year or so after the season four finale.**

**You know the drill: review!**


	2. The Beginning

**F.B.I. Headquarters, Washington, D.C.**

**Special Agent Seeley Booth's office**

**10:30 a.m.**

"You've reached Dr. Temperance Brennan. Please leave your name, number, and a short message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

"Bones, pick up your-" My eyes caught her form in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

"What do you want, Booth? I was about to go to my yoga class-"

"I'll go with you," I practically jumped at the chance to be with her, especially since she had been pretty moody lately. She blamed it on her pregnancy hormones affecting her limbic system; I blamed it on her carrying around a small human in her stomach twenty-four-seven.

"Booth, I don't want you to feel obligated to go with me just because this is your child."

"I'm not, I won't. Really, I want to go." She smiled and I smiled and I knew that I was slowly working myself into that shelled-up heart of hers.

\/

**Flow Yoga Center, Washington, D.C.**

**11:02 a.m.**

"And now rise to a sitting position…" The crazy instructor spoke in a slow, monotonous tone and I felt like I was eight years-old and in a church pew, listening to the preacher drawl on and on. Next to me sat Bones, all dolled up in her yoga outfit and I felt my stomach clench and maybe- no, positively- something in my heart fluctuate at the sight of her protruding stomach. That's my little boy.

_Or girl_. I can hear dream-Brennan saying, even with that whole experience being almost a year and a half old. To be a surprise on the delivery day, Bones decided that she didn't want to find out the sex. While the members attending the shower were a little peeved- Angela mostly because she'd gone out and bought several dresses, intent that it was a girl- I, for one, agreed with Bones on her decision.

"Booth?" I opened my eyes to see both the instructor and Bones giving me a chastising look. I was positive that most of the class was too, but I didn't turn around to determine that.

"Yes?" She leaned in close to me and the edge of her lips grazed across my ear. I tried to contain the shiver but to no avail.

"You were snoring." I nodded, showing her I understood my mistake, but really I needed to make some kind of bodily movement to release the tension building inside of me from Bones' lips so close to me. _Jesus_.

"Sorry." The instructor gave me another sour look, but continued on with the lesson. I sat in my usual attire: a black suit and a thin tie, my striped socks sticking out in front of me. I thought about how odd it must have looked- Bones in her yoga pants and me in a tie and a crisp white button-down. Thankfully, I didn't have another chance to doze off because in five minutes, the instructor banged on a gong by her mat, signaling the end of the session and we were free to go. It felt like an hour-long session with Sweets.

"Yoga is supposed to be relaxing. Why were you treating it as a jail sentence?" I didn't bother doing a double-take. By now, I was used to this woman reading my mind.

"Remember, Bones? I'm all for the cardio and you're all for the… you know… meditation." She sent me a confused look.

"No, I don't know. Yoga isn't just about mediation. It originates from the Indus civilization, over 26,000 years ago and-"

"Never mind." I turned my sights from the road to her in my passenger seat, running her hands along her stomach. "Hungry?"

"Yes, actually."

\/

**Jeffersonian Institution Medico-Legal Lab, Washington, D.C.**

**Dr. Temperance Brennan's office**

**9:11 p.m.**

I blinked twice to rid my eyes of the film covering them. Glancing at the clock, I groaned when I saw the digits, and groaned for falling asleep at my desk. Again.

"It's your entire fault," I told the little fetus inside of my womb. I debated on whether or not to stay and try to finish the paperwork from the latest case and decided upon no. My eyelids were drooping and my brain activity had slowed, which would result in a poorly-written description of the suspects and the case as a whole. Without pulling my head up, my fingers danced across the wood, searching for my keys. The only objects I came into contact with were a stack of files and a book for expecting mothers. "Shit." I reached farther and flipped open my phone.

"Booth."

"Hey, Booth. It seems I drove my car over to your office this morning and since you drove me to the diner and back here, I left it behind."

"So you want me to haul my ass of the couch and miss the end of this game because you're forgetful?" I wasn't sure, but I thought I could detect a playful tone in his voice. Rather than mentioning it, I decided to continue on.

"Yes."

"I'll be right there," I could practically hear him grinning over the phone. It occurred to me he did like driving me around- especially in my current condition. A quick promise from him to return my vehicle to me in the morning and a goodbye left me alone, once again, in my office. Although, technically, I had been alone the entire time, the room felt emptier without the sound of his voice in my ear. I pushed away this thought and figured I would think it over when I got home. After packing up everything into my bag and flipping the lights off, I headed towards the Jeffersonian's lobby, figuring Booth would scold me again if I took the stairs to the parking garage.

"Dr. Brennan?" A voice called from the hallway and I turned on my heel.

"Yes?"

**AN: Do Catholics say preacher? Or Father? I'm not Catholic, so I'm sorry if I got that wrong. **

**You know the drill. **


	3. The Salutation

**AN: My apologies. The story will go back and forth between past and present. Any chapter that starts with "present-day," like this one, is the present, while the chapters that aren't specified are the day before. If this is still too confusing, I will move the chapters to chronological order. **

**Present-Day**

**Jeffersonian Institution Medico-Legal Lab, Washington, D.C.**

**12:00 p.m.**

"You've reached Dr. Temperance Brennan. Please leave your name, number, and a short message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

"She's still not answering." My eyes dart over to the figures of Angela and Cam, standing across the examination table.

"How long has she been missing?"

"Just under fourteen hours," The words come out as if I've been asked this question a thousand times. And I have. I can hear Bones in the back of my mind reprimanding me, telling me that my calculations are improbable.

"That's still not enough time to be officially considered missing, is it?" Angela's eyes are piercing mine. I look away. I feel like I've let everyone down, even with trying my hardest in the past fourteen hours to find out what happened to our favorite forensic anthropologist.

"No. It's not. But it's enough time for me."

"Do we have any leads at all?" Cam asks for the second time since we've been standing around on the platform. "Anything that would tell us what happened?"

"Security is getting the footage off of the video cameras, although I'm not sure what's taking them so long. Otherwise, we have nothing. No leads… nothing." I watch as Angela backs away and collapses into a nearby chair. I can't sit down. I've been sitting down for the past few hours, twiddling my thumbs and biding my time. I can't do it anymore. The feelings of uselessness and fatigue rush at me again and I feel like I'm in the ocean, turning my side against the waves over and over again, but eventually, one of them will pull me under.

"Dr. Saroyan!" Hodgins' voice erupts out of the uncomfortable silence. He runs up the platform, forgetting to swipe his card, and the usually-annoying and neck-wrenching sound is welcomed to my ears. At least I have something to concentrate on now. The silence was getting to me. "This was just sent to the Jeffersonian." He deposits a standard manila envelope onto the examination table. The squints snap on their gloves and get to work as I hover next to Cam.

"What's inside?"

"A letter," Hodgins states. I want to smack him.

"Okay, what does it _say_?" Cam picks up the paper and begins to read.

"I could start this letter with a formality, but what would be the point? You already know the reason for this letter. No dear so-and-so is going to make you feel better. Although, this letter isn't supposed to make you feel better. I want you to be quaking where you stand when you finish it.

By now, you realize I have kidnapped Dr. Brennan. Good job. I've turned off her cell phone so you people can stop calling her over and over again. It's only causing her to cry even more, knowing that she can't answer and tell you everything is all right. Because it's not all right.

I am not asking for money. I am not shallow and self-serving like the Gravedigger. I want nothing more than the satisfaction that you are reading this and knowing Dr. Brennan could be perishing, by my very hands, right now.

Whether she lives or dies is not your decision to make. It is mine. I am in control now.

Sincerely, 71."

"Seventy-one?" Hodgins perks up and I want to smack him again.

"You listened to that whole thing and the only part you care about is the _salutation_?!"

"Well, it's the only thing I deemed important. The rest is just psychological mumbo-jumbo." The urge to harm him disappears because I realize he has a point. Now the waves are coming at me stronger, almost forcing me underneath the current, but I steady myself, my hands gripping the table.

"Figure out what those numbers stand for and I'll swab the entire thing for fingerprints," Cam instructs the squints and they're off. I realize the alarm stopped blaring a few minutes ago and the silence is rolling in again. But not for long.

"Agent Booth?" A familiar voice calls from the bottom of the platform.


	4. The Disappearance

**Jeffersonian Institution Medico-Legal Lab, Washington, D.C.**

**10:00 p.m. **

"You've reached Dr. Temperance Brennan. Please leave your name, number, and a short message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

"Where are you, Bones? I arrive to pick you up and suddenly you've disappeared on me." I pushed open the doors of the lab, intent on figuring out why she wasn't returning my calls. My eyes caught her office- everything was dark and turned off for the night, as was the rest of the lab. "Just great," I muttered and turned around, barely missing Gary on his night shift, patrolling the hallways. "Hey, have you seen Bones?" The middle-aged man jumped and whirled around to face me.

"Hey, Booth. No, no I haven't seen her. Wait- yeah, I did." After a moment, I decided that waiting around for the rest of his response wasn't going to happen.

"Well… where did you see her?"

"She was standing in the lobby. I guess waiting on you, right?" He grinned. My legs were carrying me towards the end of the hallway as he called after me. "Good luck to you two!" While I'm sure he meant his well-wishes to go to Bones and me, together, at that moment I took it as encouragement to just _find_ her.

"Thanks, Gary!" I hated being at this place when no one else was around. The empty hallways loomed around me, almost swallowing me whole, and the echo of my footsteps kept reminding just how alone I was. Reminding me how I still hadn't found Bones. "I'm going to put a tracking device on her the next time she wants me to play hide-and-seek."

"What's up, Booth?" Another guard who worked the front lobby greeted me, eyeing my frazzled appearance with interest. "You been running a marathon?"

"Funny. Any chance Bones was here in the past thirty minutes? She called me to come pick her up, but traffic was brutal, and I just got here. Now I can't find her." His lopsided grin gave me comfort.

"Sure thing, Agent Booth. I saw her right over there," He pointed towards a row of benches lining one of the Jeffersonian's walls, "About fifteen minutes ago. I went to go help one of the cleaning crew with opening one of the automatic doors- damn things getting jammed all the time- and when I came back… the doctor was gone. Figured she'd already left."

"Anybody else around here?"

"A couple of other F.B.I. agents, but nothing out of the ordinary. Why?" He swallowed. "You think someone's hurt her?" Now I was the one who was swallowing. I shuffled nervously.

"No, no, Sam, nothing like that. Just… trying to get all the information I can. I'm sure that she called one of the squints to come and pick her up instead and forgot to call me." Sam grinned at this.

"Pregnant women do that, you know, forget things easily. Only they have something to blame it on. My wife is always getting after me 'cause I can't remember to change the oil or flush the toilet." I moved towards the exit, ready to fly down the streets of D.C. to catch Bones at her apartment- because surely that's the only other reasonable place she would be if one of the squints had taken her home.

"Uh… thank- thanks, Sam, but I've gotta run. I'll see you tomorrow, all right?" The guard simply waved a quick goodbye and I immediately made my way down the stretch of concrete towards my Sequoia. I speed-dialed Angela, then Cam- and after ignoring an attempt at discussing my over reactive nature with Sweets, finally considered that Hodgins might have possibly taken her home. He answered within two rings.

"Booth?" His tone sounded confused. It's not like I called him that often, anyway.

"Hodgins, did you take Bones home?"

"No. Don't think so, unless she snuck into the back of my car and is waiting to ambush me in the garage tomorrow." My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as I lurched to a stop at an intersection, just three miles away from her apartment.

"Great. Well, maybe she grabbed a taxi or something."

"Have you tried calling her? Have you checked the lab at all?"

"Do you think this is my first day on the job or something, Hodgins? Of course I checked the lab. She'd be there, working, before she would be at her house- unlike any sane person. I keep calling her but I always end up getting her voicemail. She told me to come pick her up at the Jeffersonian and no one has seen her for an hour."

"Well, good luck. If she's not at home, it would always be a good idea to check the local hospital, even though Brennan despises them. She's rational enough to know that her being injured affects the baby, too."

"Thanks," I muttered into the receiver before snapping the phone shut and letting it clatter into the cup holder.

\/

**Dr. Temperance Brennan's apartment, Washington, D.C. **

**10:23 p.m. **

It's not too often that I find myself in Bones' apartment alone. I could count the number of times on a single hand. Right now, though, I didn't want to consider this to be one of those times.

"Bones?" I called out to the room, even after I've swept through the entire place and found no proof she had been here since the morning. My nerves were starting to gnaw a hole into my stomach. I'd probably have an ulcer there by the end of next week. The pig and Brainy Smurf sit on her long expansive bookshelf, arranged neatly beside some type of artifact. Her most prized possessions.

That _whoosh_ feeling in my body arrived in waves, rippling through me like a soft current. But along with the current came that familiar anxiousness and worry, boiling over any good feelings. I dialed the only number left to consider. "Agent Renfro, this is Booth. I want all security footage for the past two hours from the Jeffersonian sent over immediately to my office. No, I'm not kidding around. I need it now. The whole place. Step on it." I gave Bones' living room a once-over, switched on a light in her kitchen nook for when she came home, and closed the door softly behind me.


	5. The Copycat

**Present-Day**

**Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Washington, D.C.**

**2:23 p.m.**

The clock on the wall is moving slowly, almost as if the batteries are being drained as I watch the arms move at a snail's pace. Slower than a snail's pace. Now the arms are practically turning to stone. I'm forced to watch the clock because I am useless at this point. The squints are running around and testing the carbon level of the paper and ciphering code and I am watching a clock.

It's been sixteen hours, by my calculations, since she's been stolen. My mind tries to form a picture of her, smiling or working above a skeleton or not understanding a pop-culture reference, but the only picture I can come up with is one of her bound and gagged, tied to a pole, sitting on a dirty floor with no windows- sweat pouring down her forehead and her clothes shredded and ripped by the animals who stole her.

"King of the lab!" I hear from across the room and I quickly shove the picture out of my head. I don't need to be distracted with the what-ifs right now. Bones doesn't live in the what-if, so neither will I.

"What did you find?" Cam rushes towards my side- I've been sitting next to the examination table the entire time, thumbing through my cell phone, and occasionally and futilely dialing Bones' number- as Hodgins leaps up the stairs.

"The numbers, seventy-one, well in the beginning I thought they most likely stood for an address or a code to a lock or possibly a safety-deposit box."

"And?" I snap my phone down in agitation.

"And I searched through the F.B.I.'s database and realized that I was completely wrong- an unusual occurrence for me," Hodgins stops his rambling and continues on with the point, "The numbers represent a case number," He turns to me, now, and I can see the strange excitement boiling over inside of him, "More particularly, one of _your_ case numbers."

"Howard Epps," Angela finishes and I ignore Hodgins grumbling about her stealing his glory, instead focusing on the fact that there's only one problem with his finding.

"Unless people can turn into zombies now-a-days, your conclusion is _wrong_, Hodgins, because zombies, in fact, do not exist and Epps couldn't have stolen Bones."

"Jesus rose from the dead after three days. Wouldn't you call that-"

"_Jesus is not a zombie_!"

"Guys!" Cam exclaims, placing one hand on my chest and another on Hodgins, "Enough. We will discuss flesh-eating organisms later. Right now we have to find out why Epps' case number was on that letter."

"It has to be an inside job." The conspiracy theorist of the group receives an eye-roll from everyone. "What? You have to admit that it's not another one of my 'crazy' thoughts. It could be true!"

"He's got a point."

"Don't encourage him, Angela."

"I'm just saying… the only way someone would know the case file number would be if they either worked at the F.B.I. or at the Jeffersonian."

"Or if they were there when Epps was convicted the first time."

"What if this person is a copycat killer? Maybe they're obsessed with Epps and want to complete his task of finishing off Dr. Brennan?" Cam's eyes widen and she gives me the sorry face, but I close my eyes, because I've seen the sorry face way too many times in the past few hours.

"Also, the letter mentioned the Grave Digger. It has to be someone close to this case." The group falls silent and slowly, everyone catches everyone else's eyes. "But, of course, none of us. It's someone who's been working _with_ us."

"I've got about ten or fifteen agents helping out."

"And we have a dozen or so technicians and assistants doing work for us, too," Cam adds and I lean back and start to pace around the squints.

"That's at least twenty people that could be in on this. How do we test every single one of them?"

"Easy," Angela perks up from her quiet place at the end of the table, "Whoever was talking to Brennan in the lobby was out of range for the security cameras, but I was able to catch a reflection of them in the hallway's mirrors. It's blurry and you can't make out any details, but if I can take a look at every person who's been working with us, I bet I could see if their bodies match up with the reflection."

"And security could see who logged in around that time, which would help narrow down the list more." The loud _whack _of my palms hitting the table cause a few heads to turn and peer up at us, up on the platform.

"How long is this going to take?! The perp could have checked in earlier and just waited around the museum for all we know!" I clench my teeth and run them over one another; the rush of dull pain gives me something to concentrate on. "The letter didn't even say if we have this much time. What if he's already…?" Warm hands are on my shoulders, guiding me away from the group, and I don't have to look up to know they belong to Angela.

"Booth, sweetie," I look up from where my fists are tightly clenching the railing of the platform and meet her eyes, "Go sit down in Bren's office. Take a load off. You've been sitting up here for hours. Try to at least grab some sleep, if you can. It'll make you feel better. And while you're doing that, we can do our job, and help find Bren. Okay?" I nod, once, twice, and again before letting go of the railing. The current is back and I can feel it lapping at me, rushing higher and higher, dangerously close to coming over my head. My legs are carrying me towards the familiar door- where usually a very-pregnant forensic anthropologist resides- that now occupies nothing but empty space and dead things.

I take a seat in her chair, something I'm not particularly accustom to, and I feel out of place. So I move, over to the couch, where I can look at the chair and imagine her sitting in it, chewing on carrot sticks- "because they're healthy for the baby's eye development"- or typing away on her keyboard for her latest novel.

"I will find you," I tell her faded image that's playing in the room, and I can imagine her crystal eyes glancing up at me, an eyebrow moving ever so slightly up onto her forehead, and I can imagine her brain trying to explain what I'm telling her. "I won't let anything happen to you." It's a lie, because obviously something has happened to her, but it makes me feel better inside, and I can imagine a smile growing on her face. And I love it when she smiles.

A loud ringing sound awakens me from my dream-state.

"Bones?"

"No, sorry, Agent Booth."

"It's okay. What have you got for me?"


	6. The Overturned

**AN: The story will be continuing in the present-day from this chapter on. I was thinking about doing a chapter of Brennan's point of view of the kidnapping, but decided against it. If that interests you, I may type one out. **

**Present-Day**

**F.B.I. Headquarters, Washington, D.C.**

**Interrogation room**

**4:12 p.m. **

"No way!"

"Yes way. This is the only person whose figure matched point for point on the computer."

"Are you serious?!"

"I believe so, Dr. Sweets."

"It's... but- my psychological profile was all wrong! That... well, this sucks."

"Brennan's still missing, you know, so could you please worry about your sucky profile later?"

"Sorry, Angela. But- is this- I mean... this is the person that kidnapped Bones?"

"Why did you just call her Bones? And yes, it is. As you can see, Booth's interrogating right now."

"I believe that since our near-death encounter last year, I should have the privilege of calling her Bones, too, like Booth does."

"You're wrong, Sweets, but let's not agonize over that right now." Angela motions to the thick layer of glass separating the squints and the shrink from the kidnapper.

\/

"Where?" This interrogation isn't about beating around the bush. This is about getting to the main point: Bones. And whether she's alive or not, whether she is still breathing and living in this world with me.

"You mean you still haven't found her yet?" The smirk is unsettling, to say the least. "And they told me such great things about you."

"Where?"

"You already asked me that."

"Where?"

"Jesus, you are persistent. I'll tell you what," I don't back down from the glare I'm receiving, "How about I tell you a story first?"

"I don't want to hear a story. I want you to tell me where she is. Where you've kept her for the past day."

"Why?" The question catches me off guard.

"Why not?"

"That's not a proper response, Agent Booth. Tell me why you want to know."

"Because she's one of the top-rated forensic anthropologists in the world and the Jeffersonian needs her back to help solve murders that people like you commit." The smirk is getting to me now. The need to lean across the table and rip it off overwhelms me, but I know Sweets is watching, and I don't want to hear about how I don't need to let my anger control me.

"Oh, come on," Another harsh laugh, "We all know that's not the _real_ reason."

"Well, if you know, then why don't you tell me? Everything, while you're at it."

"All right, fine. You want her back so she's safe in your arms, so you know where she's at, and you know she's sleeping all warm in her bed at night, because you're in love with her." I keep my face in a grim line and try not to admit out loud that it's the truth. Even a raging psychopath can see it so why can't Bones? "While she sees her pregnancy as a favor to the world, you see it as a precious gift. Something you and she created, together, but not really, and that's why you want to be so close, because you haven't gotten a chance to be _physically_ close."

"Okay. Thanks for that little Dr. Phil session, but I want an answer."

"You're not getting it."

"Tell me where she is."

"Not even a pretty please with a cherry on top, Booth?" I sit back in my chair and study which move I need to make next, as if this is some giant game. But then again, it is, because Bones' life relies on whether or not I win, whether or not I take the shot and make the goal.

"Why did you come to work for the F.B.I., anyway?"

"I wanted to bring justice to those who were wronged."

"You mean catch the bad guys?"

"Precisely." My tactic is working, I see, because the lines around the mouth are starting to harden.

"And now you're a bad guy."

"Not exactly. I was bringing justice."

"To who? Yourself?"

"Howard."

"Just in case you didn't notice, he's dead. And he wasn't exactly that _great_ of a person."

"That's where you're wrong, Agent Booth."

"I am, am I? Really?" A nod of the head. "Well, then, please inform me why I am wrong, because the last thing I remember is him trying to _murder_ my partner with a crowbar." The green eyes flash underneath the fluorescent lighting.

"Epps was saving their souls."

"What souls?"

"The souls of those women. They were tainted with the stench of society. He cleansed them, Agent Booth. He brought them to enlightenment."

"Was this before or _after_ he raped them and buried them alive?"

"No one understands him. Except for me. I understand him. I understand the need to purify the women of this world."

"So you stole Bo- Dr. Brennan in order to 'cleanse' her?"

"No." The expression of tranquility on the face collapses again. "I wanted to seek revenge on her for murdering Howard. He was a righteous man and she _ruined_ him."

"Dr. Brennan didn't kill him. He slipped from my hand. Didn't you at least read the report?"

"Stop lying, Booth. I know you're just trying to cover for her. Only you and she knew what happened that night before last year. That's when I read the report and I become fascinated with Howard. And now I know."

"The report is the truth."

"God will condemn you for lying, Agent Booth."

"God will condemn you for worshipping such a whack job!" The laugh that erupts out of the smirk gives me the chills. "And you still haven't answered my first question."

"Right, right. The location." I wave my hand in front of me, cuing for the answer. "You know, the only reason I didn't kill her was because the child inside of her is innocent. Howard wouldn't have wanted me to murder the child."

"Why didn't you wait until later, then?"

"Howard came down from Heaven and told me, a few months ago, to avenge his death on this exact date. Unfortunately, I did not find out she was pregnant until a few weeks ago, although there were many rumors around the office about it, but I never believe anything until I see it."

"Just tell me where she is."

"No. If you hold me here long enough and I don't talk, she'll die of malnourishment, and then it won't be my fault. Howard will understand, then."

"Tell me where Bones is at or for the first time in my life, I swear to God, I will hit a woman!" The smirk comes back.

"Don't fret, Booth. She's been home the whole time." I glance over at the window and I know that the squints are rushing out, dialing the F.B.I. to form a search party at Bones' apartment building. I quietly stand and move around the table, kick my foot out to send her chair crashing onto the floor, and place my heel right below the smirk, closing up the airway.

"Thank you, Agent Renfro, that will be all." The glint in her green eyes disappears, fading slowly, until I pick my foot up and head for the door. I don't turn around to see if my 'cosmic-balance sheet' has risen. Instead, I pick up my cell phone and dial.

"You've reached Dr. Temperance Brennan. Please leave your name, number, and a short message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

"I'm coming for you, Bones."


	7. The Mockingbird

**Five months later**

**Dr. Temperance Brennan's apartment, Washington, D.C.**

**7:16 p.m.**

We had found her handcuffed and gagged, barely conscious from the physical and mental strain of malnutrition and anxiety, chained up in the bowels of her apartment building, just like Renfro had told me. I look down at my hands, the ones that pulled the tape off of her mouth, and I look down at my arms, the ones that picked her up and nestled her close to my chest when we exited the building, towards the flashing lights of the ambulance. The dark thoughts in my mind escape me, suddenly, when I hear her singing.

I am pulled towards it as if by magic, because that's what it sounds like. Making my way down the hallway, I make an immediate left, and lean against the doorway. She's sitting there, in the rocking chair, moving back and forth with our three-month old baby in her arms. Bones still has her own apartment, yet often, I stay over and sleep with her- not in the sexual sense, only in the physical sense- but I can feel that line between us fading fast.

Bones stops her actions when she sees me in the doorway and a grateful smile spreads across her face.

"Will you take her? I'm in desperate need of a shower." I cradle the little girl into my arms and take the seat Bones occupied only a few moments ago.

"Little baby Addy, little baby Addy." I bounce her in my arms and she looks up at me with her mother's eyes, big and bright they are, resembling a light sea glass hue. "Little baby Addy." Bones picked her first name in the delivery room, as she held our daughter, wrapped up in a pink blanket- although Bones asked the doctor for a yellow one, deeming that pink was a sexist color. Then, she turned to me and told me to choose her middle name. "Little Addison Joy." Truthfully, as I stood there in that hospital room, I'd gone through a thousand names at once, the ones I'd scoured the Internet late at night for and read through useless baby books for. The name fit, though, and it rolled off the tongue so easily and sounded just _right_. The name fit now, still, with her bubbly attitude and how much she resembles her mother, no matter how much protesting of facts Bones spits out. I return to the song Bones was singing earlier.

"Hush, little Addy, don't say a word. Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird and if that mockingbird don't sing, I'll be the only man buying you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns to brass, Daddy's gonna kick the salesman's ass-"

"Booth!" I hear Bones' voice from the hallway and I smirk.

"Now, hush, little Addy, don't you cry. Mommy loves you and so do I."

**El final.**

**AN: A little coincidence: my Spanish teacher recently gave birth to a baby girl and named her Addison Faith. **


End file.
